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Show -14- Peppermint Monday weaker and weaker. Pa didn't tell us then that Russ wouldn't live long. Death is not easy to talk about, especially to kids, but somehow Jason and I both knew Russ wasn't going to get the chance to grow up. It all seemed terribly unfair to me then, and it still does. Russ never gets the chance to be a boy, which in my opinion isn't that great, but I'm sure it's important to Russ. He can't run, kick, catch frogs, ride hot wheel bikes, or anything the rest of the little pests his age do. In fact, Russ is loosing his muscle control over a lot of simple, small things nobody else ever stops to worry about. Things like eating, tying his shoe, and writing. That's a shame too, because Russ is real good at writing his numbers and math equations. He used to maneuver well in a wheelchair by arm power alone. It was good exercise for him, and the doctor stressed using his arm muscles as much as possible. Last month he finally had to get a new, electric wheelchair. He is too weak for manual movement much anymore, and the sparkle in his hazel-flecked eyes has dimmed. He knows he's getting worse, that his body is wasting, and he can't prevent it. Nobody can, except maybe God, if he wanted to. Russ never complains. Sometimes I wish he'd cry and scream out, just to seem more human, but he never does. Jason sure screams enough, usually over nothing important, but he lets himself be heard. I scream too, when it's over something I'm real mad about. Like one time when Carson's cat ate my baby chicks I was raising for the science fair, and another time when Jason used my history report for an airplane. You'd have thought pa would have understood about the paper, knowing how Jason is and all, but he made me do the whole report over, and then gave me a "C" because I handed it in late. He said he couldn't play favorites, just because I was his kid. |
